


Guilt By Association

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Comfort, F/M, Father Figures, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Makeup, Romantic Angst, i messed up in game and now i'm fixing it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: Post-Onslaught.  Theron and Aramys hash things out after he accuses her of not doing enough to stop Krovos.  When their argument doesn't end well, Theron finds himself stuck on the ship with Aramys' father, Idan.  Idan offers Theron his advice, but it's up to him to take it or not.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Sith Inquisitor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

The soles of Aramys’ boots pounded against the hangar floor, echoing around Theron as he made his way up the ramp of the _Resilient_. He had expected her to come after him eventually—she always did—but Theron had hoped for more time to cool off. Any apology he gave now would be half-assed and insincere and she’d see right through it. If he felt he needed to apologize. Which he didn’t.

“Hey!” she shouted, bounding up the ramp behind him.

“Don’t you have a party to get to?” Theron stopped at the top and looked over his shoulder with an icy glare.

“I want to know what that was about,” she pointed behind her, “

“Of course, _my Lord_,” Theron stood over the threshold and bowed deep, “Anything for you!”

“Don’t start that,” she growled, warning him with a side-eye as she pushed by him and his extended bow.

He was quick to stand and follow her. The back of her head became the target of his glare as he imagined squishing her head between his finger and thumb. She stopped in front of the holoterminal, swinging back around to face him. With her chin nearly pointed at the ceiling, she held him in a long stare. 

“If you have a problem with my decision making, you come talk to me about it. Not Lana. Me. I’m doing my best out there—”

“Yeah? Well, maybe your best isn’t good enough,” Theron snapped.

“This is a war, casualties are—”

“I heard Lana the first time,” he rolled his eyes before placing his hands firmly on his hips, “Thos were innocent civilians who didn’t have to die! You--of all people, Aramys—_You_ had the power to do something, and you didn’t!”

“I made the decision I thought was best. I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t know that Krovos’ strike was going to kill people? _Really?_”

“Well, what about you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you ever once think of the Imperial lives that were lost because of something you did?” she plunged her finger into his chest, dangerously close to the still tender scar that Atrius had put there.

“I tried to keep as many as I could safe.”

“So did I!”

“Then why didn’t you stop Krovos?” Theron frowned.

“I thought you of all people would get it,” Aramys shook her head slowly, dark eyebrows furrowed as she regarded him in disbelief.

“Get what?”

“I have to convince these people I’m on their side; that the old Aramys most of them knew hasn’t gone soft—weak. I know them. They’d take advantage of me the first chance they got; backstab me or betray—” her eyes flickered up to him briefly—“Betray me. It’s why I killed Anathel. Old Aramys would have stopped at nothing to get her seat back.”

“I didn’t fall in love with old Aramys.”

“Yes, you did,” she scowled, “On Rishi, on Yavin… Ziost.”

“I didn’t love you on Rishi,” his voice lowered to a soft grumble, “Not yet. Not at first.”

“Yavin?”

“Sort of,” he shrugged, “I don’t know—That’s not what we’re arguing about! Old Aramys would have stopped Krovos!”

“Old Aramys isn’t here anymore!”

“Then maybe she should come back!”

“New Theron isn’t so great either; after the stunt you pulled on Umbara, on Copero!”

“Oh, good, let’s bring that into it! I knew you weren’t over it!”

“I’m never going to be over it, you _idiot_!” she shoved him, both her hands planted on his chest, “You said you hated me and you left! You—” she pounded a fist against his heart—“Left! I know it wasn’t real to you, Theron; you knew your intentions. But I didn’t. I had to do so much on my own; things you should have been there for.”

There was a wince as a guilt-laden dagger stabbed him through the stomach, “I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“I know,” she said.

He lifted his hand to the one she had planted over his heart. His chest thumped, a new soreness radiating with each breath he took. The back of her hand was soft under his thumb.

Stars, he was so tired. His stomach had been upset for weeks. Between that, his all-too-familiar insomnia, and Danna, he wasn’t sleeping. Maybe it was his exhaustion that made working for the Empire—even if it was for the Republic’s gain—feel so wrong; against his very nature. He felt like he’d been thrown into an alternate dimension when he watched Aramys attack Anathel without warning, pulling him from her old council chair with the force, and flinging his limp body into the middle of the room. Only to just stand there after and hold a completely casual conversation with Vowrawn. It’d been difficult to look at her after.

This wasn’t ignorance, he told himself; he had seen her take someone’s life before. They’d both done it when it was necessary. But there had been a coldness to this that he’d never seen from her, an apathy that had caused him to shiver just by recalling it. Either she was a better actress than he’d realized, or she was beginning to enjoy herself under the Empire’s spotlight again.

“Aramys,” he said with a heavy breath, “I don’t think I can do this.”

She pulled her hand out of his with a jolt, “_What?_”

_Oh. Oh, he shouldn’t have said that._

“Wait, I don’t know,” he shut his eyes and shook his head.

“You don’t know? What can’t you do, Theron? Just the working for the Empire part? Or all of it?”

“I don’t know!” he repeated, at a loss for how to explain himself. Words weren’t his thing, and it seemed his vocabulary had abandoned him when he needed it most.

“What about Danna?” Aramys glared up at him past her dark eyebrows.

“What about Danna?” he snapped, “You two got along fine without me before.”

This was going so much worse than he’d expected it to go. All the wrong things were coming out. Never had it once crossed his mind to abandon the family he’d help build, even if they sometimes made him want to jump out of a window. Why had he said that? Sure, he’d been a little clumsy as a father at first, felt a little left behind due to Aramys’ significant head start, but he’d never held that against her.

“How _dare_ you,” Aramys snarled, her hands balled into fists. There was a sudden surge of static in the air, making all the hair on Theron’s arms stand straight.

“You gonna shock me too, now?” he asked angrily.

“If I wanted you dead, Theron, you’d already be on the floor,” she sneered, standing on the toes of her boots to put herself nose to nose with him.

Theron blinked at her, the soreness in his chest had “That’s pretty much proving my point, isn’t it? Look at you—You’re already different and you haven’t even been back—”

“I’m not back!”

“Then do something! Next time save someone instead of playing along; stop trying to impress those bastards and kriffing do something! Sith spit that you’re doing this just to blend in. You got caught up in playing the old you! You’re _enjoying_ this! You can take the Sith out of the Empire, but she’ll always be Sith.”

Aramys held herself on her toes, but Theron caught the flicker in her eyes. He’d hurt her. Significantly. The way her lower lip twitched as she tried to stop her face from falling, the flutter of her eyelashes as she looked at him in a way that only made him think of Umbara.

“I can’t talk to you right now,” Aramys practically leaped away from him, ramming him in the ribs with her shoulder as she pushed past him.

“You’re just going to leave?” he turned, following her closely.

“Maybe now you’ll know how it feels.”

“Aramys! Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” she said mockingly, “Maybe to that party you suggested earlier.”

“You—I didn’t mean—Are you joking?”

“No,” Aramys said, looking back over her shoulder before descending the ramp, “I’m not.”

The door closed behind her and no more words were exchanged. Theron stood there, hands on his hips and mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“What the hell just happened?” he asked himself.

He stood there for what could have been minutes or hours, trying to process everything that had been said. But it was no use, his brain had taken a vacation without him. All he could think of was the back of Aramys’ head as she went down the ramp.

“When you two fight, it really is like a hurricane, isn’t it?”

Theron straightened, remembering suddenly that there was someone on board the ship that he’d forgotten about. 

“Idan,” Theron spun around, greeting the father of his insufferable fiancée with a forced, closed-lip smile, “Good to know you don’t have a problem with eavesdropping. I’ll make sure Aramys and I have our future arguments out of earshot.”

Idan stepped aside quickly as Theron trudged back through the ship, headed straight to Aramys’ quarters to lock himself in until she and Lana decided to come back.

“_Will_ there be future arguments?” Idan asked behind him.

Theron stopped short of the entry to her quarters. Anger still churned in his gut he faced his future father-in-law with a scowl, “You know, I’m getting _real_ tired of being told I’m a flight risk.”

Idan held his furious gaze in silence, his face was steady and calm. Wrinkles below his eyes creased as he offered Theron an understanding smile as he let out a soft sigh. With a quick bow of his head, Idan took a few steps closer. They still didn’t know each other well, Idan had become a bit of a recluse on Odessen when he wasn’t needed, but Theron didn’t need to know him well to see that the older man meant no threat. While he staggered back one step, Theron didn’t retreat.

_Old Theron would have_, he thought to himself.

Out of all the things he expected to come out of Idan’s mouth, what he got surprised him. After all, this was the father of the woman he’d just been yelling at. Danna’s grandfather. He wasn’t expecting a peace offering.

“I was just going to make tea. Do you want any?”

But that was what he got.

“Tea?” Theron repeated softly.

“Just tea,” Idan swept his hands in front of him in the direction of the galley at the other end of the ship “I promise.”

“Yeah,” Theron mumbled with relaxed shoulders, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idan's a big ol snoooooop


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback to Theron's end-all fight with Jace. Then, Idan and Theron enjoy a cup of tea while Aramys and Lana enjoy the party.

**Guilt by Association**

Chapter Two

**Coruscant**

_Seven years earlier_

The glass award on Jace’s desk would have been the perfect thing to throw across the room, Theron thought, listening to his biological father as he finished expressing his disappointment. If anything, chucking it at the wall, like Theron wanted to do with all of the ‘advice’ Jace was offering, would at least put a pause in the seemingly one-sided conversation.

“I just want to make sure you’ve considered what you’re doing,” Jace finished with a defeated sigh as he realized Theron was no longer listening.

“I considered it before I turned in my resignation,” Theron clipped, raising his head. He shifted in nervous discomfort in the chair on the other side of Jace’s desk.

“Leaving the Republic for—“

“Aramys isn’t like them,” Theron tried to cut him off before he could call her something unkind.

“She’s a _Sith_,” Jace said with a glare, “This woman was on the Dark Council. And you don’t even have confirmation that she’s alive. You’re leaving the Republic over a woman.”

“Yep,” Theron stood, his upper lip curling as he turned back to Jace, “I knew coming here was a mistake. Figured _‘hey, maybe he just wants to say goodbye, and respect my decision.’_” Theron chuckled, “I knew it was a long shot, but it didn’t even take your ten seconds of being here before you started your speech about loyalty.”

“But have you considered the implications, son?”

Theron’s skin prickled, “The implications?”

“You could be mistaken for an Imperial sympathizer,” Jace said after a pause.

Theron threw his arms across his chest, “You’re just pissed that I’m leaving, and I didn’t talk to you about it first.”

“Don’t I have that right? As your father?”

Theron’s eyes widened, looking at Jace in bewilderment, “No, you don’t. You don’t get to come in thirty-three years too late and tell me how to live my life. And if you want someone to blame for that, go find Satele.”

When his father didn’t quip back, Theron tossed him a glance. The man was staring at him, steely eyes bearing down on him with the strength of the Eternal fleet.

“No one’s heard from her in over a year.”

Theron’s shoulders rose as he scoffed, “Right.”

“No matter your cause, Theron, I can’t approve of this,” Jace said with a lowered voice.

“I came to tell you as a courtesy,” Theron’s brow furrowed with a scowl. Bold of his father to assume such a thing. “I didn’t come looking for your approval. I already submitted my resignation with the SIS—“

“I won’t let it through,” Jace said quickly.

“_Try it_,” Theron snarled, unfolding his arms and leaning angrily against Jace’s desk, “You’ll never hear from me again.”

“If you leave, _you_ won’t hear from _me_,” Jace was angry now, matching Theron’s temper.

“Glad I took the time to get to know you, then,” Theron laughed cruelly, “See you around, Supreme Commander.”

“Theron, wait,” Jace’s face softened as Theron’s resolution did the opposite, “I didn’t—“

But the door to Jace’s office closed at Theron’s back before he could hear whatever half-meant apology Jace was about to offer.

\---

**Vaiken Space Dock, Imperial Space**

_Present Day_

The tea was good. As far as tea went, anyway. Theron has never been as avid a tea drinker as Aramys, but she had managed to figure out his perfect sugar to milk ration. When she made it, it was something he found to enjoy, though every attempt of his own to recreate it had failed. This had been especially frustrating during his months away; he hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on the hot beverage being available on the more challenging days. Idan had managed to get considerably close, though the sweetness was a bit underwhelming.

“Not bad,” Theron said after his first sip, steadily putting the mug back onto the conference table. 

Idan had settled in across from him, his long nose still stuck deep inside his cup, but there was a hint of an appreciative smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you,” he swallowed, “So I heard something about a party; you didn’t want to go?”

“Uh-huh,” Theron said, sitting back in his chair, “I knew this wasn’t going to be ‘_just tea.’_”

“I’m just making conversation,” Idan put down his cup, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve seen how you Imperials party. ‘Don’t think I’m invited anyway. But if you want to go—I don’t think you need to keep hiding.”

“Don’t let my accent confuse you, Theron, I was and still do consider myself a citizen of the Republic,” Idan said flatly, almost scolding him, “I also hold my parties to high standards. And no offense, but if the Imperial parties you’ve been to are disappointing, I think you’ve been attending the wrong ones.”

Theron noted the way he said party, like the word lacked the ‘r’ entirely and had been replaced by an ‘h.’ Aramys said it similarly, but only when she was sleepy; she always sounded more like Idan when she was sleepy; as if her accent would slip into something more casual while she got into her pajamas. It made him miss her, more than the tea had. As his heart dropped into his chest, he realized he might have just been an idiot.

He had the sudden overwhelming urge to take his mind off it.

“So why don’t _you_ go?” he asked.

“I don’t want to push my luck,” Idan winced, “Especially with Aramys in such a sensitive position. The last thing she needs is to be followed around by her old Jedi father.”

“Are you still a Jedi? Technically?”

“_Technically_—I don’t think I’m anything anymore. Your father had my criminal record expunged; I’m not considered to be a traitor anymore, but I don’t think I was automatically re-indoctrinated into the Order,” Idan took a deep breath, “At least, I hope I'm not.”

“Malcom’s good at expunging things,” Theron muttered under his breath with a cranky grimace, “Do you ever wonder if the Jedi need their Barsen’thor right now more than Aramys needs her father?”

Idan didn’t appear offended by the question, but his voice was defensive, “Will you ever believe that the Republic will need you more than Danna?”

That answered his question, though it hit him like a knife in his chest. Or Atrius’ lightsaber. Theron shook as a chill traveled up the length of his spine. While it might not have been the case before he returned the Alliance--Theron knew himself well enough as a parent now to know that he would, without a doubt in his mind, sacrifice almost everything if it meant keeping his daughter safe. The thought of Danna one day being in Aramys’ position made his heart roar in his ears. If he were given a chance to act as her guardian—he’d certainly let the Republic fend for itself. He pretty much already had. For Aramys. Theron clicked his tongue, ‘_Idiot Strike number_ 2’, he thought with a frown.

“No. Sorry,” he mumbled, flicking a crumb off the table. “Guess I’m just annoyed with how she’s always doing things her own way.”

Idan chuckled as he sipped from his cup again, “Aramys has always preferred to do her own thing.”

“Was she as much of a pain in the ass as she is now?”

“Oh, _worse_!” Idan guffawed as he crossed his legs under the table, “I love her, don’t get me wrong, but she has the stubborn streak of a tauntaun.”

“Better smelling, though,” Theron smirked.

“Thank the stars for that.”

“Do you think I'm being too hard on her about this?” Theron asked the question that had been sitting heavy on his mind from the moment the tea had been put in front of him. He mindlessly traced his finger around the rim of his cup now as he waited for Idan to answer.

“I don’t know. I’m still learning who she is now,” Idan said, sounding more than a little heartbroken, “I can’t tell you if what we saw was her overplaying the person she used to be or if she truly did behave that way. The last time I saw her, she was thirteen-years-old.”

That was something the two of them had in common, Theron remembered. He’d lost his father, or at least father figure, at thirteen. Though the circumstances were wildly different. Idan hadn’t chosen to send Aramys into a desert to join an order that would reject her. Theron had most of the story; again, unlike Master Zho, it sounded like Idan had fought with everything he had to stay together.

“I knew her back when she was on the Dark Council,” Theron mumbled with a tired shrug, “Maybe I just forgot how she used to be. I mean—You were there; the way she killed Anathel—She just whipped around and—“ With great exaggeration, Theron mimicked Aramys’ force lightning with his fingers crooked and clawed—“Zap! Good night, Anathel.”

“I saw,” Idan said, eyes going vacant as he stared into his teacup.

“So you think it was overkill?,” Theron said with a groan, “No pun intended…”

“It caught me by surprise,” Idan nodded, “It seemed like a little much; maybe she had her reasons.”

“Her reasons were that ‘old Aramys would have wanted her seat back.’ But that still doesn’t excuse what she did—what she didn’t do. She should have stopped Krovos while even saving face if that’s what she’s so worried about.”

“Theron.”

“What?”

“I think you might be expecting too much.”

Theron’s head landed in his hands as elbows slammed onto the table, “Damn it.”

\--

** _Elsewhere on Vaiken…_ **

The bottom of the shot glass hit the table hard, put into the row of four others — two for her, two for Lana.

“I don’t think two each is enough,” Aramys moaned drunkenly, leaning heavily against the table.

The party was thriving around them; Officers and Sith alike socializing in groups over their smaller victories they’d managed to achieve despite their overwhelming defeat. A defeat that Aramys was mostly, if not wholly, responsible for. Looking around for another serving droid, she couldn’t help but feel like she wore a sign on her back.

_ ‘I’m the traitor! Kill me!’_

There was a strangeness to returning to the Empire she once considered home intending to destroy it from within. Maybe she was losing herself in the safe familiarity, the nostalgia. Theron could be right.

_No_, she shook her head, “I’m not drunk enough.”

“Yes, you are,” Lana said at her side.

“I am going all in tonight,” Aramys turned to her friend, her best friend, “Danna’s been done breastfeeding for months, I have nothing to worry about. I deserve this.”

“You’re not going to think you deserve the hangover that’ll come with it,” Lana chuckled, “I can’t how much your tolerance has dropped.”

“Let’s fix that then,” she grinned through the slurred last word as she snagged a full champagne flute off the serving droid she’d managed to wave over, “I don’t think I’m feeling it yet. Oh! Did I tell you what he said about Danna?!”

“That he thinks you and Danna don’t need him,” Lana nodded slowly, “Yes, we’ve discussed it at length.”

“It’s ree—ridicool-redic—“ Aramys scrunched up her nose as the bubbles from the champagne tickled her throat.

“Ridiculous,” Lana finished.

“Exactly.”

“He has a point. You managed a few months with Danna on your own.”

“I wasn’t on my own,” Aramys grumbled, “I had my family, you, Senya, Koth—Even Arcann helped a little. Everyone on base wanted to help.”

“And we’re still all here.”

“I love my father,” Aramys said softly, “I’d hate for Danna to go without loving hers.”

“I can’t see you having anything to worry about,” Lana sighed, “I truly don’t think Theron is going anywhere. If he did, I’d hunt him down myself.”

“You’d do that for me?” Aramys said with humor.

“For you and to get back at him for not telling us what he was doing with Atrius,” Lana frowned.

“You’re never going to let him live that down, are you?” Aramys laughed softly.

“No, and nor should you,” she said, her voice firm, “Nor should you let him live down that hair.”

“Oh, that hair,” Aramys leaned back a little too far on the chair, knocking her drunken self off-balance, “It looked so much worse when he started to grow the rest back, didn’t it? I almost told him to shave it again.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” snickered Lana.

“I hope the next one has his hair; it’s so soft.”

“The next one?” Lana’s blonde eyebrow arched high.

“The next what?”

“You just said you hope the next one has his hair. The next one of what?”

“Oh,” her posture deflated, “A baby, I guess.”

“You were just talking about how he threatened to leave, and you’re thinking about having more babies?”

“Not right now,” Aramys smacked her friend with a limp arm, “Unless you think this isn’t going to blow over?”

Aramys’ widened her eyes in terror.

“You’ll both be fine,” Lana rolled her eyes, scooting her chair closer, “You’ve pulled the scraps of your relationship out of worse wrecks than this. And there’s a specific train wreck I’m thinking of—“

“_I get it_,” Aramys said out of a crooked mouth, smearing already smeared purple undereye liner farther across the nose that many would consider too big for her face, let alone her petite entire being.

“I noticed you haven’t been wearing your old heeled boots,” Lana said with a curt nod to under the table, “Have they been officially retired?”

“I don’t need them when I dress up anymore,” Aramys shrugged, not quite as interested in the topic as Lana hoped she’d be, “Everyone knows how short I am.” Her nose twitched as champagne tickled her throat as she sipped on it, “Do you think Danna’s going to be short?”

“With Theron as her father?” Lana’s blonde eyebrows flattened as she scoffed, “I doubt it. You’ve seen how tall his father is.”

“True,” Aramys’ eyes widened, “And my grandfather was tall…”

“General Teern?”

“Yeah,” Aramys tilted her head, now heavily under the influence. Her neck was loose, her eyes a little vacant as she giggled to herself, “Did you meet him?”

“Once, I think. He looked like he should have been well past retirement.”

“He was in his eighties,” Aramys’ body jolted as she laughed inwardly, “He was_ outlandishly_ old for a General.”

“Did you ever find out what happened to him?”

“Nope,” Aramys said with a massive sigh, “Just disappeared one day, and I got all his money.”

“And his fancy apartment on Nar Shaddaa.”

“And his fancy apartment on Nar Shaddaa,” Aramys repeated with a nod that was a little too violent, making her head spin.

“When was the last time you were there?”

“Since before Danna was born… When Theron took me.”

“Maybe you should take Theron there again.”

“Why?”

“Didn't you two have a little mini-vacation there? Before Umbara?”

“That was Theron’s idea.”

Lana’s brows furrowed, “You’re right, that was Theron’s idea. If I remember correctly, he’d been very insistent that you go—Just the two of you.”

“Yeah?” Aramys sighed, “For two days. Then on our way home, you told us you had something.”

“Umbara.”

“I said that.”

“Which he knew he’d have to leave you on.”

“Oh,” Aramys came to the same conclusion that Lana had already made, "You mean he planned it as a goodbye."

“You need to figure out what you want from him here on out, Aramys,” Lana said as she leaned forward, “Because Theron isn’t going to pursue you to fix it himself.”

“I think you’re underestimating him,”

“Maybe,” Lana straightened her slouching back, “You were right; I don’t think two drinks were enough.”

Aramys hummed into her glass as she finished what little champagne was left in it.

“I’m not ready to go back to the ship anytime soon anyway. Theron will likely be angrier with me than when I left him.”

“Why is that?”

“My father’s on the ship, remember?”

“Oh!” Lana sat up straight; she had indeed forgotten that Idan had tagged along, “Oh, you’re awful!”

“He’s going to offer him tea,” Aramys said, “And you know him—You’ve been told he wants to have to tea, haven’t you?”

“I have,” Lana said, “Told me he was worried I wasn’t sleeping enough.”

Aramys waved her fingers through the air gracefully as she rolled her eyes. Tea. It was her father’s code word for ‘lets talk.’ All the times he’d sat her down at the kitchen counter, a cup in front of each of them. He’d lean against the corner of the counter where she sat, never sitting down himself, and ask about her reasons for doing something wrong, or saying something mean. He would never interrupt her, only listen intently and nod every so often. He’d express his displeasure in the events, offer his opinion in a soft, gentle voice, one that had the power to make her feel both understood and guilty. He would then lean harder against the counter until he was on his toes, push their noses together, and tell her he loved her. Aramys snickered as she thought of him doing the same with Theron now. There wasn’t likely to be any ‘I love you’s exchanged, but she knew her father would still up being too nice.

It would make Theron’s skin crawl.

“He’s going to hate it,” Lana said as if she’d been reading her thoughts.

“It’s probably why I did it,” Aramys stretched her mouth into an exaggerated frown, “I could have told him to leave the ship. I was going to—The Resilient is my ship—But then I felt him wake up from our yelling and decided I’d let him deal with Theron.”

“You’re wicked,” Lana giggled, finally feeling the second of her two shots.

“This is either going to work in my favor or be a giant mistake. There is no in-between,” Aramys barred her row of lower teeth as she dragged the last word dramatically.

“You’re right about that,” Lana’s brow arched sharply.

“Unless…” Aramys said in a low voice, hinting at possible doom.

“Unless?”

“Unless my father agrees with him. He was a Jedi—“ Aramys scowled, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if she’d just been assaulted with a horrible flavor, “That’s still too much to think about—He was a Jedi? My Father? And I didn’t know. We never crossed paths once—That’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Given how big the galaxy is, I don’t find it unbelievable. If the Emperor can hide the whole Empire, what’s to say your dad couldn’t hide himself?”

Aramys took a deep breath, her shoulders rose and fell, “I guess.” On her plate sat a stuffed mushroom cap that’d gone cold. She flicked it, and both her and Lana watched as it rolled across the table and onto the floor, “There’s an ice cream stall near that speeder vendor, we should go there. I’m too drunk for appetizers.”

“The one that shouts at you if you take too long to order, or the one with the seasonal display?”

“The seasonal display one.”

“I wouldn’t mind taking a walk,” she shrugged and stood, “It’s been a while since I’ve been to Vaiken. I’ve missed it.”

“So did I,” Aramys said warmly, looking around the room. She wondered if there would ever be a time where the Empire, Ziost specifically, wouldn’t be the first place she thought of when someone mentioned ‘home.’ If Theron had been wrong about taking a ‘Sith out of the Empire.’ Being here with Lana, surrounded by members of both the Empire and her Alliance, felt more at home than life on Odessen ever had. Maybe Theron was right; she realized as a pit formed in her stomach the second she turned to follow Lana out of the party; maybe being back was changing her. Though it hardly felt like the regression Theron claimed it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol aramys been knew

**Author's Note:**

> Idan's a snoooooop, and he's about to get even snoopier. Going to post this in two or three parts because it was getting long. Stay tuned.


End file.
